


You Could Let it Go and Stay Alive for Me

by JadedPrince



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Eliza gets the devotion she always deserved, F/M, Fighting, I believe Eliza was fierce af, Lovesickness, Pain, Revolutionary War, Suffering, This will get more graphic as we go but it's tame right now, War, and no one can convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedPrince/pseuds/JadedPrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Memories were just memories until they reach the light of day again then they become real."</p><p>Eliza Hamilton is picking up the pieces from a husband gone too soon when her past comes back to greet her in ways she had long since forgotten. Secrets that might have changed her husband's outlook on his wife's strengths and her influence, these were things he would never know. </p><p>Alexander Hamilton believes he's alone, fighting for what he believes in every moment of his life and just trying to change the world one document at a time. Manning Washington's journal and balancing a new life with Eliza is draining. He's making sacrifices that soon become second nature, however, he's never truly alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, here we go, I don't know how this will go over, not that it can really go over because there's not much here because it's just kind of started, but if I don't launch this puppy out of my page documents then I'll never stop rereading it and fixing it, so here we go!! 
> 
> I'll be lurking in the comments and be that obnoxious person who finds spelling errors and goes back and keeps editing chapters, so please, tell me what you think so far because there's a million things I haven't thunk but just you wait.

“How did you write like you were running out of time?” The words caught in her throat forcing her to swallow them down with silence. Her fingers brushed over the letters pooled around her feet, candles danced around them and illuminated the fading words on each piece of paper. Wax ran down their stems, threatening to slosh their weight to the hardwood underneath.

Tears ran down her cheeks, streaming down her neck and catching in the fabric of the collar on her nightgown. “I’m too young to be a widow, Alexander, I’m too young to raise these children on my own.” She bit her lower lip to fight back the sobs that threatened to leap from her throat. “I was too young to lose Philip and I am too young to lose you.”

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms, “Did you know you were going to die that day, Alexander? You had to have known, you stupid man, you had to have known Burr wouldn’t throw away his shot, just,” She hung her head, a sob finally managing to slip from her lips, “Take care of Philip for me, alright? Take care of him in the way we never could. Look after your children, his brothers and sisters, in heaven and don’t, for god sakes, let them get wrapped up in a duel.”

She managed a strained laugh, trying to wipe back the wetness from her eyes, “No more duels, Alexander, no more duels in this family or so help me I will waltz right up there and kill you again.” Shaking her head, she tried to pick up one of his letters but her hands shook with such a force that the letter only managed to glide back to the floor. 

Eliza took a deep breath, trying regain what little parts of coherence she had left. She tried to focus on the pounding of her heart but it only seemed to grow more and more erratic as her eyes played over the pages of writings that her fingers would not allow her to hold. Her eyes froze over one closing, “Best of wives and best of women.” She could not contain them anymore, a wail erupted from her throat and she collapsed to the floor, body shaking with sobs. The hardwood floor on her cheek was welcoming, cold and rough and welcoming as it took the brunt of her reaction. The candles threatened to flicker out with the sudden movements but they held strong. They were resilient. 

Fingers clutched her nightgown to her chest, the closest she ever felt to being truly safe, she silently prayed her children could not hear her but the weight of her heart was too heavy and the nights too dark for her to continue the smile that did not reach her eyes anymore. 

It could have been hours, she was lying on that floor, hours or minutes, until the tears stopped and her vision cleared. She sniffed, running her arm over her nose before straightening herself back into a sitting position. 

The door to her bedroom creaked open and Eliza immediately softened, her composure set to send a child back to bed, “Who is it?” She called, hoping the thickness of her voice would not give her away. 

“Eliza Hamilton, it is far past the time you should be in bed.” Immediately, Eliza was on her feet, leaping over candles and running full speed to take her sister into her arms. “I was on a boat here to visit when I heard the news.” Angelica pulled her sister into her arms, squeezing her with all of the force still left in her body. “What is all of this?”

Before Eliza could respond, Angelica was pulling away, walking over to the piles of papers on the floor, “Hopefully this wax doesn’t leave a stain,” Eliza could tell her sister was doing her best to keep her composure, could hear the pain threatening on the edge of her voice. “I’ll clean this up while you go and get yourself ready for bed. My bags are in the foyer, don’t you worry, I’ve been traveling for weeks and I am heading to bed soon as I know you’re taken care of.” 

“Angelica,” Her voice cracked, Eliza reaching her arms out, “Let those go for now and just be with me, my god, just be with me. The children did not wake as you came in, did they?”

“I checked their rooms before I made my way here, all tucked in and sound asleep. They’re angels, Eliza, simply angels. How are they fairing?” Angelica began scooping up the letters, much to the discontent of her sister but Eliza did not protest. 

“As well as expected,” Eliza cleared her throat, moving to help her sister with the mess. “We talked about for a long time today, some of them are too young to know grief, you know.”

Angelica held up a hand, “Let me do this,” She tossed her head in the direction of the bed, “Go on, sit down, mama, let me take care of you tonight.”

Eliza did not protest, simply moved over to lie back on the bed. Pressing herself into the familiar sheets, she pulled Alexander’s pillow close to her chest, hugging it to her. “Husbands die in battle all the time, you know, and I’ve heard the widows talk about it but they never mention the little things they leave behind. A pencil here, a forgotten watch there, I found that awful green coat he used to wear shoved in the back of the closet downstairs and I-” Her voice grew thick again, she buried her face into the pillow. 

Tears welled in Angelica’s eyes as she placed the letters carefully into an empty dress drawer, she took a deep breath to try and keep her tears inside but she knew this was a battle she would not win. Trying to blow out the candles, she accidentally let out a small whine that gave her away instantly. 

Eliza pulled back from her pillow, the scent of Alexander still lingering on the fabric, “Angelica, give us this one night. One night of grief, one night of remembrance, and then we can stop wasting time on tears. Remember with me, I know you’re in pain.”

Angelica, with shaking hands, extinguished the rest of the candles before climbing into her sister’s bed and taking her into her arms. They held each other and they wept. They wept for things they wished they could have changed, done sooner. All the words left unsaid, they wept, but they were not alone. 

Memories began pouring out, they laughed until their bellies ached, they continued to cry until their heads throbbed, they spoke until their words slurred and they celebrated a life cut too short. Just as exhaustion was about to take over the sun began to poke it’s way into the sky. 

But one memory struck them both just as they began to drift off to sleep, one memory that caused them both to freeze and stare wide eyed at one another, neither daring to say it first. A small box lie under the bed, neither of them possessing enough strength as the moment to dig it out, if they would ever dig it out. A small box filled with men’s clothing, bloody bandages, a small soldiers uniform, all folded and shoved into a small box that was always hidden and had been tucked away for years. 

They both shook their heads, eyes drooping from exhaustion. Clinging to each other, they drifted into the most peaceful sleep either of them had received in months. Memories were just memories until they reach the light of day again then they become real.


	2. Years Earlier

“I would suggest going out tonight but I’m afraid it would be too much temptation for our newly wedded tomcat.” John Laurens grinned, elbowing the other in the side before returning to the whiskey in his glass. 

The grounds were quiet, save for a few drunken shouts and the occasional groan from a man far too unaccustomed to the lack of women for his own good. Darkness only illuminated only by the occasional lantern and passing firefly. 

“Temptation?” Alexander took a few steps back, laughing and careful not to spill the liquid from his glass. “I think I would be able to control myself, thank you, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we have our own drinks here and I am in much better company. Much better company than a few women with bills to pay and men who haven’t seen sex in months, no. I am fine right here, thank you, and,” He threw thew the other a wink, “I am very much in love.” Tipping forward in a mock bow, he swung around to make a show as he downed the last of his glass. 

“True husband and gentleman, Alexander Hamilton.” Laurens announced to the nonexistent crowd in Alexander’s tent, raising a glass to them before finishing it off and placing it carefully on Alexander’s desk which was a terrible mess of loose paper, ink, and their whiskey bottle. 

“Thank you, John Laurens,” Alexander chuckled, stumbling forward to clasp a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Unless you would rather go out as now we have to focus on finding you your own bride, yeah?”

John wrinkled his nose, pushing the other away, “I am fine with bachelor life for now. Besides, with you out of the race Mulligan and I are going to be unstoppable.” 

“You both already were unstoppable,” Alexander rolled his eyes, “You don’t keep your stories secret.”

“Mulligan didn’t tell the one about the horse, did he?” John raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping over his lips.

“My dear Laurens, you told me the horse story.” Alexander rolled his eyes, “You always tell the horse story when conversation gets slow and you’ve had a few.”

“Oh,” John shrugged it off, “It is a good story but that’s not the point.” He shook his head, “I am fine without a wife, it’s not a necessity and I have a job to do.”

“Yes, oh, because the great and influential John Laurens will be slowed by a woman who only keeps his bed warm at night and cooks him meals.” Alexander rolled his eyes, “I need another drink because now I miss my wife. By the way, you would love her.” He announced, filling both glasses to the brim. 

“Hamilton, I was at your wedding. Yes, she's lovely and she's a beautiful woman, now let me continue," He rolled his eyes, "Marriage just seems exhausting,” John plucked his glass up from the desk, “The courting, then asking her father, planning the wedding, and then you have to maintain a house and children start appearing and so many responsibilities.” He shook his head, “I could not handle being a father and trying to change the world, that’s like multiple children and they’re all screaming and begging for help but you have to prioritize one over the other and, look, that lifestyle may suit you but not me, no sir."

Alexander swirled the liquid in his glass, head cocked to the side as he took in his friend’s words. “I see what you mean from an outside perspective,” He began slowly and John nodded, glancing around for a place to sit before settling on the cot to listen. “But coming from someone who has been forever changed by the idea of marriage I can see where your logic fails. John, I love Eliza more than anything in this life and finding that solidarity, that part of me that I never realized was missing has been a revolution within myself that has changed me, I think, for the good. I hope it’s for the good. It’s such a pure and right thing, love,” He paused, a smile spreading over his lips, “Love, John, not unlike what I feel for you.” 

John chuckled, pressing a hand over his heart, "That's nice, Alexander, but I don't need a lecture on how much you love your wife."

“No, no, it's all relevant, my dear John, the love I feel for her it not unlike what I feel for you but it is,” Alexander shook his head, taking a long sip before continuing, “It’s a wholesome thing, you know, to know someone out there wants to take on this journey with you. This journey that could end any number of ways, I could be killed tomorrow and she would be alone but she knows that and she chose that or, you know, I could live another fifty plus years and she signed up for that too and, in a way, you've given me that same promise.” 

He began to pace the floor, gesturing with his glass, brow furrowed as he thought, “She chose a man with no money, John, a man who can only offer her his heart and what I can create on paper. It’s all I can provide for her right now. I have only an ounce of fame. I keep Washington’s journals, his letters, his statements, that’s all I do, John, and she chose to share that with me, just like you have. But we made vows to each other in front of friends, family, strangers, we promised that to each other, not just one but both.”

“Our children will come later and the prospect of her raising them alone hurts me but who knows when this war will end. I may be back to raise the first few, I may only write them letters and hope they know my love for them, for their extension of me.” Alexander smiled, his eyes softening.

“I trust her with my life, Eliza, I do. She’s a good woman with a heart kinder than any I have ever seen and all I can do is trust and try to be a better father than my own was and the bar for that is low. It’s exciting rather than it feeling like a chore, you know, that eventually I will have to take on. It’s a future that I am fighting for. They are going to grow up, a child is going to grow up, and not know our fight, my fight, and that’s okay, they’ll continue it whether they know it or not. You would get to raise them all, the country and your children, there will be problems, set backs, priorities.” He shook his head, taking a seat next to him on the bed, slinging an arm over John’s shoulders. “But you can face whatever this life throws at you, be it wife, child, freeing fellow man, you are the bravest man I know, John Laurens, and I love you for it.”

John smiled, shaking his head, “A personal speech from our very own Alexander Hamilton, my world will never be the same.” He took a moment to sip from his glass, “Thank you, Alexander, I really did need that, not that I have been looking, mind you. But if the day ever came, I would want you to be by my side.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Alexander dropped his arm, raising his glass, “To promises of the future.” 

“To not inviting you to the consummation,” He paused, “We have to talk about the fact that one day someone is going to get ahold of that letter and start assuming.” Laurens raised his own with a chuckle. 

Mid-sip Alexander laughed, liquid sloshing down his chin, “Christ, John, I guess these wild stories do not live up to reality.” He frowned down at the stain spreading over his cream shirt, giving up and merely wiping the liquid away with his sleeve. 

Laurens rolled his eyes, plucking the glass from Alexander’s hand to place both on his desk. “Does Eliza know of my love for you?”

Alexander laughed, throwing his hand upward as though he were to toast before he realized his glass was gone, "To my second spouse, John Laurens."

John knelt next to the desk, rummaging through the confines Alexander’s traveling chest, pulling out a rag from its depths and throwing it at the man, “I don’t have time to look for a wife because I am practically your spouse, Hamilton. Now clean the alcohol from your face and hand over your shirt, I know how to get the stain out.”

Alexander snorted, pulling the shirt from over his head, wadding it up and throwing it at the other. 

John catching it easily, “Mulligan showed me this trick awhile ago,” He shook his head, “With that and a million thoughts I haven’t thunk until now, get some sleep because you have to be up early for that meeting with the commander that you were stressed over, you know, the reason I was here at all and good thing I was. Thank you for the speech, Alexander,” He smiled, eyes softening as he looked the other over, threw up a hand, “My deepest affections and a goodnight.”

“My dear Laurens, what would I do without you? Goodnight.” He watched the other man disappear through the fabric of the tent front with a small sigh. 

Lying back on his bed, he traced the lines in the tent fabric above him. He really did owe that man more than he knew. 

“Excuse me, sir, is everything alright?” He heard John mumble from just outside the tent. Curious, Alexander listened carefully, making sure there wasn’t a situation. 

“Yes, sir, yes, I, uh,” Alexander frowned, the boy’s voice an odd tone, hoarse and gruff. Some of the men in the camp were odd ducks. 

“Spit it out, are you hurt? Did you fall? Let me help you back to your tent, son, I've had a few nights like these.” Laurens always was one to help and Alexander admired him for it. 

Slowly, he sat up from his bed and took the few strides for the door. Alexander narrowed his eyes in the dark, peeking his head out of the fabric, “Is everything alright out here?”

He could make out John’s frame against the light illuminating from his tent, a smaller man kneeling in from of him. He could barely make out John turning toward him, “I believe everything is fine, I-“

“No, no, I don’t need any help, sir, I just lost a, uh, button. Yes, a button and oh, look, found it no problem, thank you, sir, for your help.” With a rough clearing of his throat the boy jolted to his feet, “Laurens, Hamilton.” He nodded before bolting off down the strip of tents.

John shook his head, “I nearly fell over him, he was just sitting here in the middle of the way, on his back. He was just looking up at the sky, anyone could have fallen right over him. I can’t imagine why he would think sitting out here would be entertaining,” He sighed, “Then again, I haven’t seen him around before, the new ones are always doing something strange. Probably missing home.”

Alexander stomach squirmed, hoping it was just from the alcohol, “Missing home outside my tent, right, I am going to try not to look too hard into it, I’ve seen stranger.”

“True, I’ll keep my eye on him, see if I can find anything out. Try to keep your piece of mind.” John nodded slowly before throwing up a hand, “Until tomorrow.”

Alexander sighed, slipping back into his tent with an uneasiness spreading through him, “Until tomorrow.”


	3. A Moments Journey into the Past and what's to Come

Alexander slipped into his tent well after noon, hand reaching up to rub at the dark circles under his eyes. All morning he had spent hunched over Washington’s desk, scrawling out journal entries, letters, nothing of real importance today. Frustration singed its way around the edge of his thoughts as he dropped his bag next to his desk and collapsed onto his cot. 

Burying his face into his pillow, he allowed himself a moment of reprieve. The night before had not been kind to him after John had slipped away. Restlessness clung to his frame and so he spent most of the night writing. Writing his letters to his Eliza, always the calmest parts of his day, the ease in which his words came to him. Poems trickling from his fingertips and flowing onto the paper, his heart’s desires. 

A smile spread over his lips, thoughts of his Eliza drifting into his mind. Outfitted in his favorite of her blue gowns, hair tied back from the soft roundness of her face, eyes shining with life. He could hear her nearly every night before he went to sleep, whispering her prayers to him. Wishing him safety, happiness, and success, he could almost hear her laugh tinkling faintly in the distant hum of men. 

Just as he could feel the darkness wash over him every night, he could almost feel her pull the blankets up over his shoulders. Almost smell the lingering perfume that reminded him of home, he was home with her. He could almost feel the soft press of her lips on his forehead and her fingers brush against his cheek. Even now, as sleep threatened to claim him, he could almost feel her next to him. 

He hummed softly at the idea, sleepily, as he imagined her climbing her the cot with him. He imagined her fingers slipping into his hair, tugging away the ponytail that held the cascade of dark hair that would fall onto his shoulders. She would gently kiss the back of his neck as she played with the strands and she would giggle. A small tinkling of a bell, he would hear her giggle and his heart would fill. Flipping over, he would plaster her in kisses, fingers moving to her sides and he would listen to her laugh. He could drown in her laugh. 

“Stayed up all night, didn’t you?” He could hear the fabric of his tent rustle and the soft footfalls of the man making his way inside, chastising him like a child.

Alexander grunted unhappily, fantasy vanishing before his eyes, and remained facedown in his bed. No one knew any privacy in this world, it was a dying idea that recharged his earlier frustration. 

“Thought you had a meeting earlier this morning, you didn’t miss it, did you? I should have made sure you were up when I did my rounds this morning but I figured you had already gone on. If i had kn-”

Sighing, Alexander pushed himself into a sitting position, “Went to the meeting this morning, poured over journal entires and letters to his wife.” He cut the other off, “Now, for god’s sakes, John, come in and sit down and tell me you didn’t come to make sure I am doing my job.”

John rolled his eyes but gladly took up the offer for a seat and plopped himself down at his desk, “No, I figured you would still be with Washington, your meetings keep getting longer and longer. I wanted to see if you wanted to go drinking with us tonight.” He grinned, that mischief brewing in his eyes.  
“I thought the tomcat couldn’t be trusted,” Alexander raised an eyebrow, his exhaustion slipping away for a moment, “Or do you need me to help with your game tonight?” He teased, a smile of his own slipping across his lips. 

“In that case, it was nice for me to drop by, I really do have to go,” John made a show of standing and brushing some invisible dirt from the front of his shirt before rolling his eyes, “No, we’ve got some fighting still left to do in this war and before that all happens and we ignore what might happen in those wars like all men do, we decided a night out was needed. We also trust you to make the right decisions,” He paused, “And help out some of your best friends get into some trouble.”

Alexander chuckled, waving him off, “Wake up me up dinner tonight and I’m sure I can muster up something for tonight. After all, the most exciting part of my day was letting Martha know my deepest feelings for her.” He frowned, kicking off his boots and tossing his jacket onto his desk chair. The actions coming across a little rougher than he meant them to. 

John shook his head, “He’ll put you in command one day, man, don’t be so eager,” He looked Alexander over for a moment, “We need you alive, Alexander, Washington knows that too. Consider it a compliment he hasn’t put you up yet.”

Rolling his eyes and settling back onto his cot, he waved John out, “Let me sleep, wake me when you’re about to go.”

Slowly, John nodded, slipping back out of the tent with a sigh. 

*

Eliza paced the floor, gently running her hands over her arms and trying to calm herself. She fought to focus on the clicking of her heels against the hardwood of the foyer and not the pounding in her chest or the blood rushing through her ears. 

The knock at the door made her freeze, her breathe catching in her throat for a moment before nearly running, scrambling to pull the door open as her sister pushed her way inside, calling out for her carriage driver to go on before marching to the center of the room, yanking her traveling gloves from her hands and waving a letter in front of her, “You have about ten seconds to explain to me what this is all about before I have you committed.”

Eliza leaned back against the front door, closing her eyes and raising shaking hands to her face, “Give me a moment, please, I can explain everything, I just need a moment.”

Angelica’s anger dissolved, materializing in the air in front of her, “Elizabeth,” She paused for a moment, looking over the woman in front of her, her heart aching and her voice softening, “Sister, please, you have to tell me what is going on. Let me help you,” She took a step forward, slipping the letter into her pocket, “Let me be in this moment with you. 

“It seems all the more real in writing,” Eliza lowered her hands, taking a deep breath to keep the sob from slipping from her lips, “Everything seems more definite in writing, when you make a decision and then write it usually, that’s when you change your mind, you know. You change your mind because everything becomes rational then.” She shook her head, pushing from the door, and taking her sisters hands, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry to place this burden on you but I didn’t know who else to trust.”

“What is happening?” Angelica gently squeezed her sister’s hands, searching her sister’s face for answers, eyes scanning over over pale skin as if the answer were written in flesh. Dark thoughts crossed her mind, “Is he treating you well?” She pulled back for a moment, her gloves falling to the floor as she narrowed her eyes in the dim light to focus on Eliza’s form, if she could see through her sister’s clothes, “He hasn’t laid a hand on you, has he? I will march right down to Washington’s door, I will, don’t think I won’t walk into camp myself and-”

“Stop,” Eliza held up a hand, shaking her head, “I need you to stop trying to gauge the situation and I need you to listen to me. No, no, it’s nothing like that, not at all. He’s been wonderful, absolutely wonderful, he just has not been home in months.” She looked forward with pleading eyes, “That is what I needed you here for.”

Angelica nodded slowly still not fully aware of where this all was going, she slipped her hands up to rest on her sister’s shoulders, “Fair enough, you just need me here to fill the space?”

Eliza took a few steps back, shaking off her touch and holding up her hands, “No, he hasn’t been home since he left, all of the other officers have taken time to come home and he has not but his letters suggest nothing is wrong. He is driven and he will drive himself insane if I am not there to stop him.” She took a deep breath, placing a hand on her chest to steady herself. 

“I need your help with something…something that no one else can know about. I am running out of options, running out of time, everyday I am running out of time, growing older and none the wiser, just, alone. I am growing old alone in this house.” Eliza gestured to the space around her, “Surely, you understand that.

Angelica’s anger melted away at the sight of the desperation in her sister’s eyes, “Oh, Eliza, you’re lovesick. You should have said something and I would have come and stayed with you sooner. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, silly girl.” A soft smile appeared on her lips, “Eliza, this isn’t as dire as you think. I am so relieved actually.”

“No, well, yes, yes I am lovesick but no, you’re misunderstanding me.” Eliza rubbed at her eyes, trying to block out the smile in her sister’s eyes, “The man can hardly take care of himself, well, he’s showing signs of not being able to function. I know John has been worried about him, sometimes he forgets to eat and sleep and John told me that he’s put him to bed a few times.”

Angelica shook her head, smile still present on her lips “He’s not a child, Eliza, he’s your husband.” Relief flooded through her system and she even laughed, “You make this sound as though you were about to do something drastic.”

“He is my husband,” Eliza repeats softly, closing her eyes and not partaking in her sister’s joy, “Who is also fighting in a war that is killing our men everyday.”

“That he’s not doing a lot of the fighting in. Eliza, listen to yourself, he’s a grown man who loves you, it’ll all be fine. It will all be fine. Look around,” She laughed, “There is nothing to worry about. He is a smart man who loves you dearly, Washington loves him just as dearly and with him being one of our greatest weapons he won’t see the battlefield. He is a smart man, Eliza, and he could be home any day.”

“No, I can’t chance it. I have to do this for him, Angelica, I have to make sure he’s alright.” Eliza’s resolve broke, tears welling in her eyes, her voice falling into pieces. 

Angelica’s smile faltered, “You have to take care of yourself, love, if I had known this was making you so sick-”

“I’m not sick, you’re still not hearing me, Angelica.” Eliza took to pacing the floor again, brushing a hand back through her hair as she went, trying to keep the tears at bay as they poured down her cheeks. “I have to do something.”

Immediately, all smiles were gone and Angelica stood, frozen in her spot, “You don’t have to do anything. Let me talk with him and see if I can convince him to make more trips home. Eliza, I don’t know what you’re thinking. Talk to me.”

“I am trying to talk to you but I don’t know,” She stopped pacing for a moment, placing a hand on her forehead as she dropped her gaze to the floor, “I don’t know how to tell you what I’ve already done.”

Angelica unrooted herself from the middle of the room, taking a step forward but Eliza merely put up a hand to stop her, “Eliza, what did you do?”

“I have to protect him,” Eliza’s voice found grounding again, a solid base behind the tears that made her throat thick, “I have to make sure he has the best chance possible and that means being with him.” 

“No, you can’t and you won’t. You can’t do anything but wait, Eliza.” Angelica shook her head, “Wait for him to come home and pray, pray for him every night and have faith, sister, you have to have faith in that good things will come.” 

Eliza waved her hand, “No, no, that’s not enough. Nothing I can do here is enough. I’m going to make it alright. I’m going to make it so that I can protect him and nothing is going to stop me from doing that." 

*

The moon shone high above their heads as the four men stumbled out of the bar that had consumed most of their night. John’s arm slung tight over Alexander’s shoulders as they moved into the street, he howled up at the moon above causing the other men breaking out into a fit of laughter. 

“That’s my boy,” Mulligan slammed a hand against John’s back, laughing, “You’re a dog, an absolute dog.” 

John grinned, releasing Alexander’s shoulder to gently punch Mulligan in the side, “Like you had nothing to do with anything that just went on.”

“True,” Mulligan winked, rubbing his hands together as he got a bearing for where they were, “Alright, boys, are we ready to head back or are you still up for some more?”

Alexander stepped forward, gracing them all with a sloppy bow, “Gentlemen, I have to be off, have another meeting with our general in the morning.”

“Writing more letters to wife,” Lafayette teased, looping his arm through the other man’s, “C’mon, Alexander, one more time around for our sake, we rarely see you anymore. All hidden away, we were beginning to think you had just taken a good liking to our John Laurens, stealing him away from us all the time.” 

Alexander snorted, pushing Lafayette away and straightening himself up, “Just because I treat him better than the rest of you does not mean I’m stealing him away, he comes willingly and on his own accord.”

John laughed, stepping between all of them, “Please, please, there is enough of me to go around, I assure you.”

Mulligan coughed into his hand, trying to muffle, “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

John’s mouth fell open and he punched the other in the shoulder, the two spitting playful insults at each other. Lafayette took his chance to turn back to Alexander, “I mean this though, Alexander, do come out with us more often. John is worried that your lifestyle recently is going to turn into a habit. Let us help, no?” He smiled, patting the man’s shoulder, “And if you really want to slip away, I can cover for you while the two buffoons go at it.” He nodded toward camp. 

Alexander nodded, clasping his shoulder for a second, “You’re a good man, Lafayette, don’t let those two get too worked up tonight. I will see you soon.”

“No promises,” He laughed, “Stay safe, Alexander.” Waving him off, he joined in the insults of the other two, gently shoving John to the side as he made room for himself.

Grateful, Alexander slipped onto the side street and made his way back toward camp. His mind sufficiently blurred as he picked his away across the cobblestones. A stupid smile spread across his face as he remembered the night before him, a laugh seeping past his resolve. 

He reached the outskirts of the small city without a problem, the sounds of men slowly being drowned out among the buildings. The dirt path was familiar beneath his feet and he could feel himself swaying as he moved. 

It was quiet and he took a quiet appreciation for it, the sounds of nothing but the occasional animal scurrying past and the sound of something chirping in the distance. No men, no shouts or laughs, no sounds of hardship, none of the life he had been livings for months. As he walked a listened, indulged himself in the peace of it. 

Stopping for a moment, to truly bask in the emptiness of it all, his silence was pierced. He frowned, straining his ears to truly pick up what it was. A woman’s voice slipped to him from the shadows and he could not stop his feet from moving. 

Singing. 

Notes floated into his ears as he stumbled through the brush. Long grass slashed along his socks, left traces on his calves but he was only focused on her voice. Cool and clear, it cut through him like cold water and he had to find it. 

So focused, he nearly fell into the stream that appeared before his feet. Catching his balance on the rocks, he listened, the voice growing in his ears, consuming his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes down at the stream, moon as his aid, as he tried to find her. 

Her voice was a distant memory, a name he could not place among the slow workings of his mind. The stream seemed to empty out up ahead into a small pool, he followed, making his way back up to grass so that he could save himself from a true fall. 

She had to be just up ahead and he slowed his footsteps as not to frighten her. The night air clung hot and humid to skin, the first time he noticed it and it made his head ache. The brush thinned and he could see the pool. 

The pool opened up and he froze on the spot. A woman stood in the middle, back to him, seemingly only clothed in sounds of her voice as she sang to the space in front of her. Slowly, it dawned on him that she was singing in French and his heart seemed to melt.

So familiar but so far away, he watched her move. Her pale skin shone in the dim light from the moon. Dark hair billowed down her back and fanned out as she sunk into the water that had been pooling around her calves. Her singing cut short as she dipped her head back into the water. 

Alexander’s breathing was rough, shallow, and his body ached with need. Desperation clung to his chest as he took a step toward the pool, he wanted to call out to her. He wanted to let her know that he was there, that her song was beautiful and reminded him of his wife. 

His wife. Confusion wormed its way into his stomach and in his drunken state slowly began to edge the fog in his mind away. This woman reminded him of his wife, not just reminded him, no. Her words were his wife’s words, her voice. 

As she rose from the water and pulled the hair back, still not facing him, the curve of her hips were the same. He opened his mouth, the dryness of his tongue striking him as he took a step forward, slick rocks finding their way beneath his feet. “Eliza?” 

The woman froze, he watched her joints grow stiff. She was still until barely a ripple in the pool was seen and his heart pounded in his chest as the two of them dared not move. 

“Eliza,” He called again, voice hoarse and more frantic in his pursuit for her, tears welled in his eyes at the idea of her being so close. “Eliza.” He scrambled forward, losing his footing on the rocks and falling backward. 

He was looking up at the moon, a dull ache ripping through the back of his head, and water soaking his clothes. He heard the sounds of splashing and a shadow move across his vision before darkness overwhelmed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's start ramping this puppy up, the update took awhile because of life and because I realized I knew what I wanted to happen but didn't quite figure out how I wanted to do it and in what order. Once again, let me know what you think and how cheesy this third chapter ending is, holy dang, I promise that it gets better from here.


	4. Socks and Dreams and Things

“Philip Smith.” John Laurens flung himself through the tent door, fabric going flying as he stomped into the space and slammed down a small stack of papers on Alexander’s desk right next to his head, unaware the man was asleep at the desk until the papers thumped down.

Alexander jolted awake, eyes wild as he blinked the sleep away from his eyes, “Eliza,” He cried out her name, heart pounding as he tossed his head back and forth, desperate to gain his bearings but as Laurens came into view he slumped back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. “Christ, man, what is it?” As he slowly shook away the fatigue from his body, a dull pain seeped into his skull causing him to wince, “And dear god, what time is it?”

John raised an eyebrow but was otherwise unaffected by the cry and began pacing the length of his tent, “The soldier outside your tent the other night was a Philip Smith with no documentation, no family history, just signed up because he felt he had to and I quote. I really mean quote, he had a quote in his paperwork,” He paused in his step, “I am naturally fond of adventure, a little ambitious, and a good deal romantic – but patriotism will be the true secret of my success,” He shook his head in disgust, “What does that even mean and why did they quote him in the paperwork? Who did he pay off for that? How can I get a quote in my paperwork?” Spinning on his heels, he marched back in the other direction. 

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, only half listening as he tried to distract himself from the dull throb that initiated in his head. Turning to the papers that he had been sleeping on, he squinted down at his handwriting. Another letter to Eliza, she never did seem to write him back fast enough, “Men change their names all the time especially at a time when we need them and names mean too much. Smith isn’t uncommon anymore and maybe he’s got some hidden agenda, Laurens, why do you care? Why should we care? I was worried the night it happened but nothing has come of it, we have better things to do than to complain about quotes in paperwork. Maybe the man who wrote it was struck,” A yawn pushed its way up through his throat, causing that sharp pain to reappear, ripping through his skull at the effort, “Christ, was I hit by a horse last night?”

“I care because something doesn’t seem right,” John returned to his stride, “There has to be a reason those events transpired the way they did and how am I to know what happened when you ran off with my back turned? You’re lucky you didn’t get hit by something, the way you were staggering out of the bar. Remember, I had to steady you as we came out?”

“There weren’t any events. What doesn’t seem right is the way your reacting, I feel that you’re overreacting and that I probably have a meeting to go to because your timing always works that way,” Alexander took a moment to look over the man pacing his room, “John, try and keep your head on, man, we’re in the middle of a war, we all have our reasons and I could hold myself just fine. I walked back to camp just fine.”

John narrowed his eyes, looking Alexander over skeptically, “And I have my reasons for keeping up this investigation. You made it back just fine, my ass, you were asleep at your desk.”

Alexander shifted his weight, frustration gripping onto his thoughts as a headache begin to grow, spreading from the back of his head to just behind his eyes, “I must have had some work to finish but I slept and you saw it, didn’t you?”

John groaned, “Work, right, I’ll put money on the fact those are more letters,” John moved forward, daring the man to show him but Alexander simply waved him off, “Alexander, you’re not going to be young forever, this staying up at all hours is going to become a habit and besides,” He cut the growing tension with a grin, “You’re not charming when you’re tired.”

Not falling for the bait, he rolled his eyes and began shoving the contents of his desk into his bag, “And you aren’t charming when you’re hungover. I do, however, beg your pardon, I met Eliza after a day of meetings and writing Washington’s proposals, I was plenty tired then.” Alexander scoffed, making toward the door. “Honestly, that is offensive.”

“This is a lie, you spent all day before the ball primping and preening and with the three of us,” He paused, “Four of us drinking beforehand because you knew that you’d be going home with someone that night.” John scoffed, stepping in front of the other and sufficiently blocking his path. “You half knew it was going to be one of those sisters.”

“I didn’t know I was going to fall in love though,” Alexander took a step back, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting with Washington that I guarantee I’m late for.” 

He made his way forward again only to run into John’s hand on his chest, “Hamilton, in all seriousness, you need to start taking care of yourself. I know the girls need written to, I know they do, but you can’t keep running on small naps here and there or you’ll hurt yourself or you’re going to miss something,” He gestured out the door, “I’m going to keep digging into this because we need to keep you alive and you don’t realize that. Also, your temper flares when you don’t get enough sleep.”

“My temper is fine,” Alexander snapped, pushing John’s hand away, “Listen, I really do need to get to work, I don’t have time to interrogate every man who crosses my path like you seem to do. Some of us have actual work to do,” He paused, watching the hurt slash across John’s face, immediately, he softens, “My temper really does flare when I’m sleep deprived, I am sorry, John.” Taking a deep breath to gather himself, “I will sleep tonight, I promise.”

John patted him on the shoulder, “No offense taken, I know it’s been a long while since I’ve bothered you about your habits but you have to get back into this one because I’m not the only one you have to worry about exploding at anymore. Get to your meeting, we’ll talk later and I’ll tell you the story of how last night ended.” He grinned, a triumphant smile spreading over his lips, the hurt in his eyes already a distant thought. 

Alexander nodded, “I know, I know, you’re a good man, John Laurens, and for that I am grateful. We’ll see about tonight, I don’t know if those drinks settled right with me last night.” Shaking his head slowly, he raised a hand to gently massage his temple. “Stop by anyway and if I’m asleep then let me be.”

*

Washington stood, back to his desk, one hand tucked under his arm and the other gently massaging circles into his forehead. “And that should be all,” He announced, turning his head slightly so that he could glance at the man furiously scribbling across the page behind him. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to sign.”

Alexander nodded, hunched over Washington’s desk, the dull throb the had begun earlier in the morning had turned itself into a roar just behind his eyes. Sweat dripped from his forehead in the effort it took to continue, straining his eyes in an effort to distract himself from the pain that only seemed to grow. After a few moments, he paused, eyes narrowed as he painstakingly read over the words. More that he could not read anymore than he was satisfied, “Here you are, sir.”

Allowing his hands to drop to his sides, Washington moved around the desk as Alexander pushed the letter towards him. “You didn’t have much to say today,” He commented lightly, dipping his quill into the pot. 

“There wasn’t much to comment on today,” Hamilton began slowly, stretching out his fingers that had long since gone numb from writing away most of the morning. “I can’t argue with two days of journal entries and letters to Martha.” He paused, gauging Washington’s reaction to see if the comment would be taken on the offense, after a moment he continued to prod, “However, if you would like me to speak,” He swallowed back the pain to try and dig a little deeper, “You alluded today that you’ve been considering putting Lee in command and, sir-”

Washington looped through his signature, standing after he had finished and clasping a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, silencing him, “This is all for today, son, if I need anything more I will send someone to get you. You’re dismissed.” Gently patting his shoulder, he turned to begin scooping up the letters. 

Alexander blinked, “Sir, you know that this shouldn’t even be a discussion. Lee is ruinous, he won’t stand a chance in command and that’s a gamble that we can’t afford. We can barely afford what we have as of current, sir, any loss could cost us the war.”

Sighing, Washington shook his head and gently placed the papers back onto his desk, “I opened myself up for this and I realize I should not have, boy, this is not the day to have this conversation,” He paused, trying to soften tone as irritation edged into his voice, “This debate won’t take place today. You’re dismissed and I will hear your case at a later date.”

He grit his teeth, slowly standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Yes, sir,” Alexander ran a hand back through his hair, wincing as he did so.

“Everything alright, Hamilton?” Washington raised an eyebrow, quickly looking the man over. “Wake in a hurry this morning, man?”

“No, sir, all was fine,” He held back his surprise for a moment but the question slipped out, “Why do you ask?"

Washington made a pointed looked down, “Boy, you’re not wearing any socks. Don’t go losing your head on me now, we need you.” Shaking his head, he gestured toward the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon, only this once, get some rest.”

Shock flooded through his expression as he glanced down and sure enough Washington was right, his calves exposed. “I,” He choked on his words for a moment, “Right, tomorrow at noon,” He tried to regain his composure but failed for a few moments, “Noon,” He repeated dumbly and made toward the door. “Thank you, sir.”

*

As Alexander pushed his way through camp, determined to make it back to his tent before anyone noticed him. A wave of emotion was crashing through him, the pain in his head only heightening as he focused on every breath and every step that he drove into the dirt to get him closer to a haven safe from prying eyes. 

Anger reigned in him as a growing drip, filling the basin in his chest. Shock and anger, rippling with every continuous and steady fall that threatened to teeter over and slosh onto his heart. John hadn’t told him about the lack of clothing and why not? Was this was his revenge for him not sleeping? This wasn’t a joke. There wasn’t any time for jokes. 

Looking a fool in front of the general was not a gamble he needed to play at this moment not when he was trying to plead his case to lead and especially not when nearly every literate man in the country was gunning for his position. All these men gunning to man Washington’s journal and to slobber over the larger than life figure that Alexander took for granted. 

He knew he took the general’s kindness for granted and guilt weighed him down with every step as he moved across camp. Noon tomorrow, that was worse than if the man had yelled at him, screamed at him. It was a silent nudge that Washington was disappointed in his performance and therefore needed something extra, a cushion. 

Alexander wouldn’t be seen with a cushion. He wasn’t weak enough to need help, never was he weak enough to need help. Christ, the simple notion made his hair stand on end, the grip on the strap of his bag tightening as he pushed past groups of men that were beginning to gather here and there. 

Alexander’s mind was spinning, spinning and spiraling out of control and with a rough shove, he pushed his way into his tent. Flinging his bag across the small space, flying into the opposite tent wall that shook the structure but it stayed in place. It was resilient. A testament to the strength of ones outer self and Alexander hated it. 

He hated the pain that throbbed behind his eyes. He slammed himself into his desk chair, a groan from the wooden piece was all he could hear as he gripped the sides of his head. Squeezing, as if it would ease the pressure building inside of it, no comfort could be found. He slammed his hands down on his desk, eyes wild as he searched for something to tear, to rip from side to side. 

An ink pot was his first victim, luckily empty as it flew across the space and thumped into the wall and fell to the ground with a small thud. A growl erupted from his lips as he jumped to his feet, slammed him arm down across his desk and sending everything on top of it flying. 

He ripped at the buttons on his shirt, throwing it open before ripping off his jacket and sending it to the ground. Why wouldn’t the pain stop? Why wouldn’t it all just stop for a moment? He sent it flying forward with a swift kick. As he made to tug his shirt over his head, a pain so sharp it blurred his vision made itself apparent. Falling to his knees, he clutched the sides of his head in agony, a cry of pain ripping from his throat. 

Sweat pooled in his fingers as he gripped onto his hair, thick and warm, he could feel it dripping down his neck and he hated it. Dizziness knocked him forward, his arms barely moving fast enough to catch him. As his vision settled back, he glared down at the ground, his mouth dropping open in surprise as crimson soaked his fingers. 

The door to his tent flung open, “Alexander, someone report-” John’s eyes grew wide and immediately he was shouting commands out of the tent door. 

Alexander wasn’t sure when he started crying but he could see the drops falling into the grass around his hands, he didn’t move as more men rushed into his doorway. He didn’t move as one called the rest away, controlling the entire situation. He didn’t even blink as small hands began to remove his shirt. Not once did he even examine what was before him a as a small face swam before his eyes. 

Blurred features were none of his concern as their voices grew faint and fainter still. 

*

A pressure secured itself in Alexander’s hand and he smiled. The pressure was home, warm and comforting. He could feel the blankets tucked under his armpits, tight but comforting. Comforting. He was warm and sleepy, smile thick on his lips as he slowly worked his body awake. 

The pressure disappeared and he longed for it as soon as it left. Hushed whispers floated into his ears, who was disrupting his sleep? This was so nice. He hummed quietly, not a thought on his mind as he worked to wake himself. He wiggled his toes, rolled his ankles, fingers were all accounted for, and even his mind started whirring. A machine regaining life, the creaks and groans of living, fingers cracking as he bent them, neck snapping as he moved it from side to side. 

His brain was the last to reboot itself and a blessing as his eyes snapped open and he lurched forward. Immediately, two hands landed on his shoulders and pulled him back. Instinctively, he threw back a fist but the small hand grabbed his wrist, “No.” The word was strong, commanding, and to his complete shock, he dropped his hands to his sides. 

“Christ, Alexander, what the hell is going on with you?” John’s face came into view, leaning from somewhere behind him. Concern was etched into every line of his face as he shook his head and stepped out into full view, placing a hand on his wrist, “Do you know what happened?”

Blinking away the last bit of fatigue from his mind, he forced his mind into overdrive but pain sliced through his thoughts, and caused him to wince. 

John sighed, shaking his head, “You were on the ground when I came in, do you know what happened to your head? Were you attacked? The moment you say anything we’re going to have this entire camp searched through. Do you understand? No one is going to-”

Alexander held up a hand, John’s words had started mixing together, slurring into a dull hum of panic, “John, I’m fine," His words were slow and he watch panic flit across John's face but still, he continued, "Please, I swear I’m fine, just tired. Please, stop talking, I don’t care how it happened, fix it, just fix it.”

A small laugh sounded behind him and John narrowed his eyes, immediately the laughter ceasing. Alexander didn’t recognize the voice, watching as John waved them over, “Alexander, I give you the mysterious Philip Smith.”

Alexander’s eyes widened as the small man stepped into view, “Mysterious isn’t the word I would use,” The words were carefully chosen, slow on the man’s lips. His skin was pale, a stark contrast to the taller man next to him. Smooth, not weathered from a working life, Alexander immediately dropped his eyes. The name change made sense. 

“Anyway,” John’s tone was sharp and Alexander looked up with wide eyes at the gruffness of it. John was rigid in his standing, no sign of ease at all. “This is the first nurse that came running and he sent the rest of them away before I could even have a say in the matter.”

“You only needed one nurse for a head wound, any more and you would cause a scene,” Alexander was impressed with the command in the small boy’s tone, “Or would you like the entire camp to know that Washington’s right hand was currently incapable of doing anything other than lie in bed with bandages wrapped around his head?”

Alexander raised a hand to his temple, unsure there were any truths being told before him but his hand hit the cotton and he knew it to be true. “I am capable of more than just lying in bed.”

Immediately, the young boy’s eyes were trained on his form and Alexander almost flinched, “Really? How did this morning treat you? That’s going to happen again, that agitation, the pain, feeling fatigued, oh, this boy over here thinks you were attacked but I,” He paused, clearing his throat, “We know you better than that. You fought through the pain and you’ve tired yourself to the point that you’re on bedrest.” His voice rose several octaves over the course of the lecture and by the end his arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes beat down over him. 

John shook his head, an agitated sigh falling from his lips, “Since when do you have the authority in here, Smith?”

He raised an eyebrow, turning on the taller man, “Since you allowed me to send the other nurses away and you want this kept under wraps,” Gesturing to Alexander, he continued, “He needs rest and he needs to heal unless you have a better idea of how to cure him?” He posed the question and watched as John threw up his hands. 

“We can’t afford for him to just lie in bed for days,” John cried, shaking his head, “Not only will he not listen but we need him for Washington’s sake.”

“Then you had best find him some help or he will be down for longer than you can hope for,” Philip challenged, taking a step forward, “For your sake and for Washington’s.”

John opened his mouth for a moment but said nothing and Alexander could see the frustration brewing in his eyes. After a long pause, “Well, Smith, since you’re so eager to help us out then you can most certainly be his assistant for as long as you’ve prescribed him bedrest.”

Philip’s eyes widened, panic setting in his features as he looked between the two men, hoping he had misheard. “I’m not qualified for this, sir.” The confidence was gone, the fight draining from his features.

John grinned, slapping the small man on the shoulder, a smile spreading across his lips, “Consider yourself qualified, good man, now I would suggest fetching him some water for now, I’ll be back in a bit to check in on him. I have some people to run this by.” He took a step back, the light back in his eyes. 

Alexander too stunned to speak simply nodded slowly as John turned toward the door for his exit. He blinked, unsure of truly what to do as he heard the small boy curse under his breath and move to peak out the tent door. 

Drowsiness seeped its way back into Alexander’s mind, eyelids beginning to droop as he watched the tension in Philip grow. A yawn pulled itself from his lips, much to his unease, he let himself begin to drift off to sleep. He was taken care of for the moment and, assistant or not, noon tomorrow he would be at Washington’s desk with quill in hand. 

As he drifted deeper off to sleep, comforted by the idea of his own stubbornness, he glanced to side just as Philip was walking toward him, eyes falling down to his calves where green grass stains were splotched along his socks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I might have quoted someone really important in this chapter who I recently learned about and was an incredible female in history. I'll reveal her name when the next chapter comes up because she was a Civil War badass that needs more recognition but her story might reveal the obvious of what I'm about to do (as if wading through four chapters of my nonsense isn't enough and the clues aren't blatant enough). 
> 
> Also, thanks for sticking with me thus far, there are some flaws in these chapters but your support is amazing, thank you for all of your kind words!
> 
> One more thing, if you like what I do and want to come drop me a line, I'm newly at doievenmakeasound.tumblr.com.


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